


Between the Bookshelves

by 100dabbo



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Flirting, Fluff, Libraries, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo
Summary: Two terms into business school and Robert Fischer already hates it. The only happy place he can seek out is the library.
Relationships: Eames/Robert Fischer
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16
Collections: Eames' Stupid Cupid 2021





	Between the Bookshelves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Valkrist (Anouk_Tyrell)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anouk_Tyrell/gifts).



> For Val ♥ Hope you have a lovely Valentine's day!

A business degree was the last thing Robert wanted to spend the next four years of his life doing. He’d rather do anything else. Anything whatsoever. 

He’d often fantasied about which talents of his he’d be able to harness for a different life, for a different future that gave him freedom out of the tenacious grip of his father’s iron fist, forcing him to be what he expected of his one and only son.

“You’re the heir to this company. You’re going to learn how to look after it.” 

That was Maurice’s sentencing of Robert’s fate, and that was the last word he received before being enrolled in a college he’d never heard of to participate in studies he couldn’t care less about without a single friend there to keep him company.

So, the lectures passed him by, his eyes glazing over the dense textbooks and mandated reading, barely absorbing enough information to surpass the interrogative questions regarding his progress when he had time to visit home. It was always at the dinner table too when the how’s and the why’s and the where’s would come bombarding at him, probing each and every aspect of his education and affairs. 

Still, no matter the reply Robert gave, his father would always be dissatisfied, so what would be the point in trying? What would be the point in the sufferance when there would be plenty of greedy, sleezy businessmen at Maurice’s beck and call slavering over the opportunity to be the head of Fischer Morrow? His father certainly trusted them over Robert any day, that it almost seemed like the condemnation to a four year fully accommodated and serviced education seemed more like a strategy just to be rid of him. He could afford it, after all.

And whether that was true, or if Maurice had some secretly hidden, deep-seeded true love and care for Robert, that this was him merely communicating his wish to see him prosper, he didn’t care. He would be miserable either way, no matter the intention behind it.

And that’s why for the spare time that never ceased to see Robert bored out of his skull in his own dormitory, he sought out further seclusion, further silence in the one place he knew he could attain it.

The library.

It was an old university, he knew that much, and so the library of course reflected its academic and historical past with heights and heights of bookcases, shelves and shelves of knowledge, almanacs and documents of both histories and fictions; none of which was required for the mind-numbing course he had been forced to take up.

But, he made it his base anyway, earning a pathetic little salary he has zero need for, sitting behind the desk for six hours every weekend just to continue the monotony of his stay by checking books in and out for every student that would come his way.

It wasn’t so bad, it certainly beat the tedium of sitting in his room or reading the next chapter of his textbook, and it wasn’t long before he managed to become acquainted with many of the same newcomers he’d often observe making their way in and out for their respective study groups and resource hunting. 

Saturdays had been reclaimed for his own pleasure and freedom, a day he could look forward to again, just to do his tasks for a little over $7 an hour, where he felt needed and wanted again for the first time since losing his mother.

He was still in the midst of his second term and he’d already become well familiarised with the majority of people who would come in and out for their literary needs, and yet there was one day, on an afternoon where the end of his shift was nearing, when his eyes laid on someone who, to his knowledge, had never stepped inside the library before.

It was from a distance that he observed him, from the moment that he walked in with all the suaveness in his gait as someone who owned the place, no bag or satchel hauled over his shoulder like most students, directing his path right towards where he needed to go. Watching him, Robert couldn’t help feeling jaded about the lack of greeting he’d often receive from anyone coming in, though he supposed it would allow him to watch from afar without acknowledgement. 

He could watch him walking down the bookcases, tracing his fingertips across the spines, alleviating the dust from its dormant places to open and shut each novel that took his interest. Perhaps he would come up to the desk after all, perhaps he would ask for the direction and place of a specific volume or journal for his studying needs, perhaps it would only be a moment before—

“Hello?”

Robert snapped out of his daydream to stare back at the face he’d been thinking about for the past five minutes, it’s grinning smile and bemused eyes.

“Hi.” Robert said in curt reply, standing from his chair to near the desk a little closer, not only to get a better look at him but to reinstate the professional attention he ought to have had in the first place.

“Been trying to get your attention for a whole five seconds, were you lost in there?” The man joked, gesturing his hand to Robert’s head before resting it back down on the desk. God, his hands. Robert had to look back up or he’d start fixating. 

The moment his eyes returned to the stranger’s gaze he couldn’t help but mirror the same smile. He was so lost in thought already that he couldn’t be helped from asking,

“Are you new here?”

“Started this term, yeah. First time in the library though.”

“Right, yeah, I haven’t seen you around.”

“I don’t tend to tend to be _around_ , I’m afraid,” He laughed back, “So, do you think you can help me find it?”

“Yes.” Robert said without missing a beat despite having zero inclination as to what _’it’_ was. It was most likely something he’d said before he’d snapped out of his daydream, but being ever eager to please, Robert quickly rounded the desk to start guiding them both towards the shelves.

“The name’s Eames, by the way.” He said as he trailed behind, the hands in his pockets only enforcing his casual charm.

“I’m Robert.” 

“I know,” Eames laughed, forcing Fischer to look back at him just to witness it, “Nametag.” He pointed at him again, the tag pinned to the lapel of his blazer, “But also, y’know, because you dad’s literally in the textbook I’m trying to find.”

“He is?!” The shock was only slightly feigned, because although he knew the worldwide fame his father’s firm had earnt the family name, the reality of that was still rather unsettling. Still, it narrowed down the genre of book that he’d be searching for as he continued to aimlessly lead Eames through the corridors of books before them.

“Yeah, I’ve been on his wiki page a few times, you’re mentioned, and someone told me you’re here studying business, right?”

“Hardly. I sit in the lectures and I hold the books in front of my eyes, doesn’t mean I’m studying it.”

Eames laughed again and stopped at his side. His elbow propped itself up on the shelf. The silence was held between them effortlessly as they stared back at one another. The other man’s eyes tracked up and down the shelf once or twice before flicking back to Robert.

“Well?”

“’Well’ what?”

Eames nodded his head at the shelf, his expression expectantly waiting, yet still amused.

“We’re in the economics section. Can you find the book for me?”

A nervous laugh escaped before Robert started scanning across the spines for a title he didn’t know. He finally dared to ask,

“What was it called again?” He didn’t get a reply, “Eames, you said it at the desk, what was—”

“Look, I don’t do this often, but do you want my number?”

Robert could only turn his head slowly back towards him, his fingers still poised on the edge of the shelf. This man had nothing to do but shock him every time he opened his mouth. The answer, of course, was yes, yes beyond a shadow of a doubt, but the word refused to come out. His eyes only widened, and his head only nodded, watching as Eames held out his hand in expectation of his phone.

It was retrieved from his inside pocket straight away and passed over, leaving him amazed when Eames typed it in and gave it back all within a minute.

“Thanks.” Robert said, buttoning his blazer back up after he placed it back into its habitual pocket.

“I didn’t say it at the desk, by the way.”

“Oh, right. What, uh, what- what was it, then?” Robert fumbled over his words, his attempt at composure certainly proving unsuccessful as he fiddled with the buttons on his jacket. He could feel the blush creeping under his skin.

Eames grinned at him again, pulling one of the books from its crammed in spot, just at Robert’s eye level, the plastic sheath sliding against the covers of its adjacent pair as he took it out.

“This one.”

He held it under his arm, the coy look on his face refusing to leave, watching as Robert processed what had happened. “So, are you gonna check me out?”

“What?”

“The book?” Eames held it up again, “I need to take it out, right? I can’t just walk away with it…”

“No, yeah, of course.” He said, looking down to disguise his flaming cheeks, walking right past him to lead him back towards the desk, the heels of his shoes clicking on the floor and echoing in the silent space, too shy to say another word, too choked up with the excitement to be able to make the same small talk as before.

His blush had only somewhat subsided by the time he was back on the other side of the desk, scanning in the code in the front page, printing on the date with a firm press of a stamp, sliding it back across towards him once all was done. Eames picked it up with one hand, leaning against the counter with his other.

“Can I count on you to call me tomorrow?” He whispered, smirking, showing just the tips of his teeth, lips stretched wide. When Robert nodded back, he ended with his last words, “Good because you know what the date is, right?”

Before Robert could even guess, ask for a hint, or look at a calendar, Eames was off, leaving with a wink and the book he’d taken out, sauntering out just the same as he came in.

Robert was about to divulge into the giggling fit that’d been bubbling ever since the number question was first asked, and then his eyes fell on the stamp. Even in reverse, coated in the deep blue ink, he could make out the date.

_02/13/10_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) Check me out on [Tumblr](https://100dabbo.tumblr.com/)!


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